Location, location, location
by Thermit
Summary: According to Artemis's esteemed, highly scientific mind, small percentages hardly mattered in overall equations or circumstances. But Holly teaches Artemis that sometimes location makes an awful lot of difference to that 1%


Location, location, location

Disclaimer: I do not own Artemis Fowl and/or any of its characters. They all belong to Eoin Colfer.

Location, location, location

Artemis Fowl II knew that Holly Short was an exceptional female in many respects. Skipping past the obvious, she being a fairy and an elf, he appreciated that Holly was the only female in the Lower Elements Police Division's Reconnaissance Squad if not its only female field officer. (She grumbled sometimes about a Lili Frond, but he had yet to hear the story).

Beyond such trivia, she was also an exceptionally good person, err, fairy at heart. He didn't know many people who would forgive him, (if grudgingly at least sincerely) his many transgressions notwithstanding bodily harm, manipulations and threats of Armageddon. He had never known someone who could so easily give herself to others on matters of principle.

He had also never known anyone who had the audacity to punch him, more often than not jokingly but sometimes in earnest, on a regular basis. Foaly had once dryly commented that if a2 + b2 = c2, then Holly + Artemis (in a square room by themselves) = argument. They were getting better at not jumping down the other's throat, but that was just an integral part of their relationship. Arguments, snide comments, barely veiled insults and inevitable punches.

But some things were, apparently, universal to all females of humanoid species.

The trouble began with MI3. MI3 was getting nosy again and, despite the Fowls' many security measures, had slipped an unknown agent inside the manor during the twins' birthday party which, unfortunately enough, coincided with Halloween.

"Just a little party," Angeline explained during breakfast a few months before, "with some of our friends invited."

The little party had snowballed into an extravagant affair with over 150 guests including children invited all in incredibly realistic fantasy or horror costumes. It was a security nightmare and all male members of the family knew. Artemis Sr. and Artemis Jr. exchanged a significant look at the breakfast table while Angeline happily began drawing out plans and guest lists. Artemis Sr. had privately contracted a small army of bodyguards and security personnel directly out of the British Special Forces. Artemis Jr. contented with calling Holly. If anything, she could at least blend in with the crowd.

Currently, Holly was dressed in a gorgeous shift of light, silky material that flowed like liquid light about her lithe frame and was cinched at the waist with a gold, metallic belt that hid her own LEP issued belt (She salvaged most of the material from Foaly's lab). She had refused point blank to be dressed in a heavier gown, claiming that it would only slow her down. As it was, they had barely gotten her in this one for the single concession of the wings.

For Holly's birthday months previously, Artemis had built mechanical wings. Mainly for show, it was an elegant construction of wire and shimmering silver metal. Holly had been unable to resist wearing it.

Despite all the fineries Artemis Fowl could persuade the irritatingly recalcitrant elf in, Holly was bemoaning over, of all things, a pimple.

"This isn't right," she muttered, staring at the tiny mark on the mirror. Artemis barely glanced at her from his own dressing mirror in which he was trying, and failing, to fix his tie. The only reason he had condescended to dress in a dark, mad scientist costume was that Butler had arranged at least a dozen others to wear the same costume should the situation prove critical.

"Elves don't get pimples," she continued, perhaps unaware but more likely uncaring of whether Artemis paid attention or not, "This is unseemly. Maybe it's the pollution around here."

"Oh for heaven's sake," Artemis said as his fingers slipped around the tricky tie once more. "A pimple is only one percent of your face. No one will notice it."

"Depends on where the percent is," she growled back.

"You are such a girl," he dismissed contemptuously. "It's a tiny fraction. Barely there. Doesn't matter where it is."

Holly glared at his reflection while he continued working on his tie. She had the sudden, violent urge to hang him with it but... Holly casually turned around and shot him with her gun. Rather, she squeezed off a short, concentrated burst at his derriere.

"Have you gone insane?" he yelped, patting his backside. The beam stung like hell but at least it hadn't killed him. She had probably set it on the lowest possible setting.

But Holly wasn't paying attention to him. She was leaning against the mirror, supremely confident. She was staring something below eye level with a faint smirk on her face.

"Location, location, location," she sang softly in response.

Realization slapped Artemis in the face. He twisted around to see his back in the mirror and noticed his navy blue boxers peeking out of a hole in the seat of his pants.

"It's only a percentage, Artemis," she repeated in casual nonchalance. "Barely there. Doesn't matter where it is."

Author's Notes: raises a brow at the nifty new rating system and the brand new things on since she last posted Hmm, seems like I missed a lot. Anyway, it's obviously been a while since my last Artemis Fowl posting and I hope I haven't gotten rusty with it. But the idea just smacked me in the face and I couldn't resist. Reviews are greatly appreciated. Also, I'm looking for a beta reader to help me polish up my previous posting so if anyone's up for it...

Also, please forgive the artistic liberty I took with Holly's neutrino burning a hole in Artemis's pants. I'm not quite sure if that was feasible.


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